


The Ballad Of Salty Whore Hanzo

by EmetoOmo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emetophilia, M/M, Motion Sickness, Sickfic, Stuffing, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmetoOmo/pseuds/EmetoOmo
Summary: While on a mission, Jack is insensitive to Jesse’s motion sickness, and ultimately pays for being an unreasonable sympathy puker. Hanzo is a salty whore about it the entire time.





	The Ballad Of Salty Whore Hanzo

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous asked: Hanzo, Gabe, Jesse and Jack all going on mission by car. Jack driving and refusing to let Jesse sit at the front because he doesn’t want to be near him if he ends up being sick. Cue a pissed off Hanzo sitting in the back with Jesse being petty and salty the whole car ride.
> 
> Anonymous said: Ah! Also, for the Hanzo salty whore request, perhaps Jesse keeps feeling like he’s going to throw up so they keep having to stop several times and at some point Jack loses his temper and refuses to pull over, assuming Jesse is doing it to spite him for not letting him sit up front and it’s at that point he actually ends up being sick.
> 
> Okay, y’all broke me. Here it is. Sorry it took me so long to get it out. Thank you @squidbiscuit for the pre-emptive art found here:https://emeto-omo.tumblr.com/post/172462484069/squidbiscuit-emeto-omo-check-out-this-salty . I borrowed some of the dialogue from it!
> 
> ((Salty Whore Hanzo came around because I ready that he was being a salty whore, and not that he was salty the whole time))

“Don’t you want to sit in front, Kid?” Gabe asked as he saw McCree curled up in the backseat, his cowboy hat practically over his eyes.  

He just gave a small nod and looked out the window.  

” _Jaaack…_ ” Gabe chided, leaning down further to catch the Strike-Commander’s eyes. “You aren’t seriously forcing him to stay in the backseat, are you?” 

“I don’t want to hear it. The discussion has been had. Get in, or you can sit back there.” 

The trunk slammed hard, before Hanzo came around to open the other back door, plop hard into his seat, and slam the door shut.  

“Hey! When you pay my insurance, you can slam my doors,” Jack said sternly, looking in the rear-view mirror at him. 

“When you stop being such a prick, you can suck my dick,” Hanzo said simply, slipping an arm around McCree, and not even remotely being careful about kicking Jack’s seat as he got comfortable enough to cuddle his boyfriend.

Gabriel slipped in and closed his door chuckling. “I am  _so_  glad that I didn’t decide to sit this out.”  

Jack shot him an irritated glare before he started the car, and immediately rolled McCree’s window down as far as he could. It being suited for child safety meant it stopped about halfway. Hanzo kicked Jack’s seat again. “Asshole.”  

McCree touched Hanzo’s hand gently, and the archer sighed, sliding his arm around him. “I did not bring any sick bags. I had thought the Strike-Commander would be a little less  _cold._ ”  

“Its fine, I didn’t eat a thing anyhow,” McCree said quietly, sitting up a little straighter. He had wanted to cuddle Hanzo, but the suspension in the back was a little looser, meaning he need to be able to see the horizon best he could.

“You should not have to do that.” Hanzo said loud enough for Jack to hear. “A  _leader_  sacrifices for their troops.” 

Jack chewed the inside of his cheek irritably, the vein in his temple already throbbing as Hanzo gave his seat another “accidental” kick. Gabriel chuckled. “I brought your Tums.” 

Morrison held his palm out expectantly and Gabe plopped two fruity flavored antacids into the center. Jack didn’t even miss a beat as he hurriedly chucked them into his mouth and began angrily chewing them.  

The drive droned on, and every few miles, Jack was cursing under his breath as he pulled off the highway to let McCree out of the car to dry heave miserably, nothing but a little bit of spittle ever leaving his lips. Hearing it had Jack’s own stomach on edge, and his temper ever rising as he tried to fight his nausea.

After the fourth time, Jack pulled off into a gas station under the pretense of needing to refuel. Truthfully, he needed a time out himself. “Alright, ten minutes then we’re back on the road. Piss now, because I’m not stopping again for anything.” He gave a pointed stare to McCree who shrank.  

 _“Jaaack….”_  Gabriel chided again, not at all used to being in the position to be the reasonable one. In fact, he kinda hated being the reasonable one, and was pretty sure it was going to give  _him_  an ulcer every bit as much as Jack’s anal retentiveness was going to give himself one.  

Hanzo flipped Jack the bird, and slipped an arm around McCree’s waist, ushering him quickly toward the building. McCree kept bringing his hand up to his lips, queasy as could be. They passed into the station, and Hanzo immediately started toward the sweets. “You like chocolate right?” 

“Sweetheart, this is a rough car trip, I really don’t wanna–,” McCree protested weakly.  

“Jack Morrison is an asshole, and I want you to you to puke in his fucking car.” Hanzo said, bringing an armful of chocolate cakes along as he grabbed some milk for McCree to wash it down with and headed for the counter.  

As he sat everything there, Reyes eyed him with a knowing look, making Hanzo and McCree freeze.  

“Pack of Marlboros,” Gabe said, and paid for the whole lot. “Just don’t puke on me, and we won’t have issues.” 

“You’re not upset?” McCree asked, still not entirely sure about throwing up in the first place. 

“Shit no. Jack’s got a bug in his ass, and the faster he gets bit, the better,” he smirked. “Give ‘im hell. You’ve got ten minutes to eat that shit though. Better chomp chomp.”  

“Thanks, Reyes,” Hanzo said, and grabbed their things. “Hey, can I have the restroom key?” 

The attendant eyed them as if he was sure they’d make a mess, but handed it to them. “Tell, Morrison I’m helping Gabe calm his stomach down.” Hanzo said and rushed McCree off to the bathroom. 

 ~~*~~ 

“Just a little more, you are doing great.” Hanzo softly cheered McCree on. The cowboy’s eyes watered as he fought to get down the rest of the Little Debbie snack cake, his sixth straight one. And found himself gagging as he swallowed it. He fought though, and motioned for the milk to wash the cloyingly sweet, sticky, thick gunk down into his already churning stomach.

A loud knock echoed off the door. “Hey, time’s up. We’re leaving with or without you.” Jack said, stressed that they were already a good half-hour behind their itinerary.  

“He is settling his stomach, your highness!” Hanzo sassed back. “Go wait in your chariot, we will be there.” He waited, waiting to hear his footsteps leave before he turned back to McCree. “Are you good?” 

“I…think so…” McCree said, breathing a heavy breath through his nose.  

Hanzo offered him is hand, and lead him back out to the car. Jack barely gave them time to strap in before he was off.  

McCree’s head was lulling in no time, sweat beading on his forehead. “Han…”

“Jack, Jesse’s going to be sick, you need to pull over!” Hanzo warned half-heartedly. 

“No. I’m done playing this game. Take deep breaths, stare at the horizon. You didn’t vomit the whole way, you can learn to calm your stomach. It’ll do you some good.” Jack said, keeping his eyes on the road.  

Jesse’s face looked ashen as he started breathing those slow, heavy gulps of air, his body slowly rocking to it as his face seemed to relax in anticipation. His mouth was flooding with sickeningly sweet saliva.  _“Han…”_  He warned again, his shoulder giving a pre-emptive heave.  

“Pull.” Kick. “Over.” Kick. “You.” Kick. “Dick.” Kick.  

“I will yank that little ponytail right off the top of your head, Shimada!” Jack warned, his patience shot.  

“It is a top knot you uncultured privileged jar of mayonnaise.”   
  
Gabe nearly snorted trying to keep from laughing.  
  
McCree belched wetly. He knew what was coming next.  

“ _Hrrrrkkkkk!!!!”_  McCree retched loudly, and out came a gush of still cold milk tinted brown from chocolate and bile. The force of it shot it through his nose, and he coughed as he choked, only to belch loudly as another wave of thicker, darker cold milk came up, slapping wetly onto the carpet.  

“God—urp!—Damn it McCree!” Jack yelled as he dry heaved, using one free hand to hold against his lips as he swerved through traffic to try to get to the side of the road. 

Jesse wasn’t even getting much of a break as his stomach clenched painfully, forcing a thick black wave of chocolate cakes up undigested and into his lap, the stench of chocolate and bile filling the car despite the windows being open. Every wave that came up was thick and sticky, hitting the floor and his lap with heavy wet slaps as he whimpered and struggled for breath.  

Gabe grabbed the wheel as he heard liquid bubble up Jack’s throat with another heave. Jack was already turning to the door before they were in park, and vomited acrid tasting black coffee against the door, down his front, only a little making it out of the open window.  

Hanzo gently reached across McCree to open his door for him, getting his belt unbuckled for him and helping him out of the car.  Jesse fell on hands and knees as he heaved again and again, his tummy irritated not just from eating too fast and the car ride, but from the sheer amount of chocolate he consumed as well.

The archer rubbed his back, apologizing softly as the waves of vomit began to become thinner and less in volume. 

Gabe stepped out, leaning against the guardrail as Jack puked his morning coffee and breakfast over it. “You should have pulled over.” He said, pulling his phone out to call for a rental car.  

Jack didn’t even have it in him to do more than flip his boyfriend off, regretting his life.  

~fin~


End file.
